


To Give And To Receive

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He gave her a gift, once, and she left it behind when he drove her away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Give And To Receive

**Author's Note:**

> A response to the prompt: Scarves and fluff.

It slid through his fingers like water, dark blue satin sprinkled with wide, perfect white blossoms that reminded him of her. The entire piece reminded him of her, the stark pattern against the solid background, so fluid and graceful as he held it in his hands. She'd left it behind- the only thing she'd left in her cabin, folded neatly on the end of the bed. Melinda May traveled light, and he hadn't been surprised when she'd come aboard with only a duffel and a critical eye.

But he hadn't expected her to leave _this_ behind- this single thing, this scarf, and as he felt the silk catch on the rough pads of his fingertips he wondered how hard it had been for her. Leaving, walking away knowing that he'd said things to her that filled him with regret now, though at the time he'd thought he meant every word. He'd given her the scarf, found it at a street stall in Beijing and found it so suitably Melinda May that he'd done what he never did on missions; He'd shopped, wrapping it in filmy tissue and a slim black box, leaving it on the end of her bed without a note. She'd know- she always did- and when they'd seen each other some time later she'd given him the smile that he'd later realized she never gave to anyone but him.

_She left because I told her to._

He'd watched her on the video, wanted to have Fitz play back just that moment over and over again, when she strode down the ramp and off camera. Had she looked back before the door slid closed, and wondered if they'd miss her when she was gone? Had she suspected, at that point, that everything would fall apart without her there to keep it together? 

“Sir?” Simmons. He hadn't heard her come up behind him, and moved aside in the doorway to allow her room. “Did that belong to Agent May?”

“She left it behind.” It was the only thing, he thought, that hurt him as much as the knowledge that he'd driven her away. Somehow he'd have to find her, to give it back and apologize for the heated words that had cut her to the core. Because he knew her too well to think that it wouldn't have hurt her, to imagine that what she felt was so easily displayed on her face. To think she felt nothing, but to know that she felt everything in the very depths of her soul. “Any idea which direction she headed in?”  
“We found footprints...but there's a bit of snowfall, and Fitz thinks we'd lose sight of them if we go much farther into the woods. It's best that we try a different approach, sir.” She remained silent for a moment, scanning the empty room, and reached to caress the fabric in his hands. “It's beautiful. I've never seen her wear it.”  
“No tactical advantage.” He quipped, but regret had him wincing at the reply. May was more than a soldier, and it was important that the others be as aware of it as he was. “She didn't have a lot of opportunity to get out.”

“Well, I suppose none of us do, these days.” The younger woman smiled up at him, and turned to go. “If you've any input as to where you think she might go, Sir, Agent Fitz and I will be readying the lab for some long distance tracking. We may be able to narrow down her location with your help.”

“I'll be right there.”  _They'll never find her, even with my help_ . She was too good, his friend, at disappearing when she needed to. He'd taught her the basics and she'd built on them, and when he'd lost her before....after Bahrain...every ounce of knowledge he'd possessed hadn't been worth a damn until she'd wanted to be found. Until then he'd give them hope, give every available piece of knowledge he had and do what needed to be done.

_Dammit, May. Don't make this difficult_ .  _Please_ .

_Let me find you_ .

 

“Huh.”  
“That was my reaction,” She reached over to close the laptop, the soft click resounding through the empty room like a gunshot, and he blinked rapidly. The revelation that he'd been behind that which had plagued him for the last several months hadn't been at all what he'd expected, and emotions ran rampant as he considered the space before him,..and then her. _Her_. Melinda May, who had left when he'd run her away, but hadn't gone to ground without still keeping him in the forefront of her thoughts. “Phil?”  
“You always have my back, don't you?” He blinked again, clearing the residual image of himself, dark and troubled, from his minds eye. “I drove you away, and you kept searching for the answers.”  
“Of course I did.” Her voice held a hint of surprise and he marveled at how, even years later, she expressed her emotion so clearly in the tone of her voice. Expression rarely changed, but if you knew Melinda May well enough, it was her voice that was the window into her soul. “I care about you, Phil- you know that. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have anything to be sorry about.” He rose, moved away from the table and toward the suitcase he had left open on the end of the bed. Rifling through, his hands closed around the slim black box, unearthing it from a sea of neatly folded shirts. “You forgot this when you left.”

“I-” Her fingers shook, and he wondered how much she remembered about the first time he'd given her a box nearly similar. Years ago, when he hadn't forgotten what it was to effortlessly trust her. As the scarf caught the light, delicate silk glistening beneath cheap ultraviolet, her lips trembled into a smile. “You found it.”  
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd left it there to punish me.” He reached out, pulled it from the box and let the length of it flow like a waterfall to the floor before gently winding it around her neck. Once, twice, allowing the fabric a gentle drape over her shoulders. It still suited her, just as he'd thought years ago.

“Who says I didn't?” Her hand came up to caress the fabric and met with his fingers, brushing over them. Lingering, skin warm against his. “I was so angry with you for not trusting me, for not seeing how much I was doing this  _for_ you. We've been through too much for us to stop trusting each other now.”

“I know.” He took her hand in his, took the box from her and tossed it onto the bed before bringing his hands to grasp hers together within them. It was time to apologize, to put the cards out on the table and be ready to fold. “I'm sorry, May. I'm sorry that I said what I did, and even though you found all of the answers I wanted, I'm sorry that I drove you away from us when I needed you the most.”

“When  _you_ needed me the most?”

“Yes.” He inhaled sharply, and the fringe on the end of her scarf fluttered like his heart at that moment. “ _I_ need you, Melinda, just as much as the team needs to you to get through this. You and I- we're better together, and I don't ever want that to change.”

“Neither do I.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his gently. It was a feeling that he thought should have been familiar to him, should have been something he'd felt long ago had he been able to admit to himself that he could. That they had something together that was a rare gift- a love and respect that would keep them united as they faced their biggest threat. Together. “And I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.”  
“But the re-gifting thing,” She removed the scarf and held it tight, a smile playing across her face as she looked down at it, and back at him. “We're going to need to revisit that at some point. Whoever told you that a girl wouldn't remember being given something you already gave her?”  
“Well,” He returned the smile as her eyes danced with laughter, and felt their friendship click back into place as easily as it always had been. “I'll have to work on that.”

 


End file.
